Children of the Lost Lords
by Astaldowen
Summary: After the death of the king, the disappearance of the seven lords, and the alleged murder of Prince Caspian, the son of Lord Argoz and the daughter of Lord Revilian plot to assassinate Miraz. Slight AU with elements from both books and films. Rated T for violence/peril, just to be safe.


**Hello and welcome to the story!**

 **I'm super excited to begin writing for this fandom! Narnia was one of my favorites growing up, and when I revisited it during the awfulness that was my first semester of college/university, this happened! I'm just getting around to writing/posting it now, but in spite of the delay, I hope you enjoy!**

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If all of men's conflicts could be solved through a simple game of chess, Damaris thought as she moved one of her knights across the board of Calormene marble, then perhaps her ancestors would have endured less bloodshed.

She knew the history well: her people were conquerors, venturing into a new land to escape the starvation and humiliation that plagued them in the old. They'd waged many wars since then: mainly against the Calormenes, though sometimes they ventured north to fight a menace that apparently no one was allowed to speak of. But had at least one of those kings or knights or lords exchanged sword for pawn if possible, or perhaps if they'd chosen to see the world in different shades of grey as opposed to solid red, they may have been able to take twice the land in half the time—just like a well-played move in a game of chess. Men's problems were simple—maddeningly so.

A _lady's_ problems, however, would take something a good bit more creative than that.

She sat towards the side of the castle's main hall, watching the state banquet flurry around her and feeling much more suffocated in her court attire than she normally did. Her opponent, a handsome and arrogant young Tarkaan named Azhar, sat back in his chair, grinning and turning up the corner of his moustache in his fingers.

"Another most excellent move, my dear," he said. "Tell me, who ever taught so fair a young lady to have a mind so riveting?"

Her eyebrow twitched up, but before she could reply, his hand shot forward.

"Oh, I mean no offense, my lady," he said. "I only mean to say that it makes you all the more... _captivating_."

She forced back her discomfort and frustration for at least the thousandth time that night and replaced it with a cool, coy smile.

"My father taught me."

"Ah!" he said. An exaggerated disappointment shot across his face. "I thought for certain that you would have acquired so fine a skill during your time in Tashbaan."

She'd mentioned her recent trip to Calormen's capital earlier in the game while trying to survive small talk, and the more he opened his mouth, the more she wished she hadn't. Still she kept a diplomatic blanket over her face and forced out a small laugh that she hoped sounded charming.

"No, my good Tarkaan, I did not."

He leaned forward on his elbows before sliding a rook across the board. "Of course not. After all, I would imagine you were so enraptured with the glorious city you hardly knew what to do with yourself." He sighed and looked off melodramatically into the middle distance. "The rich culture, the exquisite architecture, the glorious palace of the Tisroc, may-he-live-forever…"

How long he went on like that, she didn't know. She offered the occasional nod or polite smile as she planned her next move, both on the chessboard and the conversation. After about the fifth "yes, I went there" and the sixth "it truly was beautiful," she began to wonder if Tarkaans went to school to study nothing but praising their own extravagance.

"...and the Temple! The temple of the inexorable Tash! Oh, how it glows like fire when the sun sets! Is it not magnificent?"

 _On the outside, perhaps._

She _barely_ managed to fight the words back as his knight came a little too close to her queen for comfort. Fear had kept her from venturing too far into the Temple, but she hadn't missed the bloodstains on the stairs or the rumors of what happened there while most in Narnia slept. Though frustration boiled painfully close to the surface, she chose her words carefully.

" _Haunting."_ Her bishop slid into his knight. "Check."

Azhar Tarkaan stroked his beard. "You are a clever one, aren't you?" He chuckled. "Clever indeed."

His attention turned away from the chessboard, and he fixed her with a look she didn't appreciate.

"Narnia has its charms, I suppose, but it lacks the refinement that a mind and beauty of your caliber deserves. You _belong_ in Tashbaan."

She froze and scrambled for a way to thank him for the compliment while simultaneously deflecting it, but he continued.

"I could take you there." A darker grin shot across his face. "In fact, let us say that if I win this little game, you will return with me. As my wife."

The words knocked the wind out of her, and she barely bit back a cough.

"You may make wagers like that in Calormen, Tarkaan, but in Narnia we do _not."_

A few heads, Telmarine and Calormene alike, turned towards the table. Damaris decided she must've been louder than she'd originally thought.

"I heard that Lord Revilian refused to give your hand to Pankaja Tarkaan. He wouldn't _dare_ refuse me-"

"My father doesn't have to refuse, because I am refusing for him!"

If her first outburst hadn't caught the court's attention, that one certainly had. The room fell silent. Azhar fumed as he stood up.

"This is _outrageous-"_

"As I said, I have been to Tashbaan. I don't wish to return. Something about blood-curdling screams and human sacrifices in the dead of night seems to have switched my mind."

"How _dare_ you-"

She slid one last piece into his. "Checkmate."

With that, she stormed across the hall. She could have heard a pin drop, but a deep, throaty laugh broke the silence. Its owner addressed the Tarkaan just as Damaris left the hall:

"We must have forgotten to warn you," Lord Miraz said. "She _bites_."

Part of her worried that the Tarkaan might follow her, so she detoured through a more secretive passageway. She finally emerged on the top of the west tower, looking out into the immense, star-speckled night sky. Crisp, autumn air rolled into her lungs, and she let it cool her anger and ground her. She rested her arms on the parapet.

The wooden door behind her creaked open, and quick footsteps came after it. Part of her was initially concerned that the Tarkaan had followed her, but the voice that came immediately stilled that fear.

"Did he hurt you?"

A faint smile spread across her face as she turned around. "No, my prince. I am all right."

Caspian fumed. "Are you sure?"

"He didn't lay a hand on me."

"If you have need of my sword, I-"

" _Caspian."_ She almost laughed. "I'm fine."

He still looked angry, but he nodded. "You know my father would never have allowed him to do what he suggested."

"I know. I am grateful for his protection. And for your concern."

"You're my friend."

A comfortable silence came between the two of them. Caspian broke it.

"How _was_ Tashbaan?"

She scoffed. "Hot, crowded, and deplorably arrogant. Yes, the architecture is praiseworthy, but Calormen is much too far from the land I love." She looked dead at him. "From the people I love."

He seemed to completely miss the hint. "At the very least, you had an adventure. I've been stuck studying and avoiding my uncle."

She laughed. "I would _much_ rather get lost in my father's study than be doted on by another overzealous Tarkaan."

"That had to have gotten annoying."

"Oh, it did," she affirmed. "I understand that they wed much younger in Calormen, but I'm fifteen, and I am in no mood to marry a stranger twice my age! We only went as a courtesy-"

She was cut off by a pair of strong arms wrapping around her and spinning her around from behind. A voice yelled out in a perfect imitation Calormene accent:

"Ah, the flower of King Caspian's court! The jewel of Narnia! The delight of my eyes! Welcome, Lady Damaris-" the speaker set her down and kissed her hand-"to Tashbaan!"

She burst into giggles. "Take back what's yours, Constantine," she said, wiping the back of her hand on his dark grey tunic.

He grinned wide, and his dark eyes sparkled. "Oh, is that what you said to the Tarkaan?"

"It's what I wanted to say to the Tarkaan."

"But you didn't because you're a good girl."

"I didn't because I value my life!"

Constantine laughed as he embraced her. "I missed you, too."

She smiled and returned the embrace. Lord Constantine, the son of Lord Argoz and the sister-son of the king, had been one of her closest friends since they were children, and she found a comforting familiarity in his embrace.

"It is good to be back home," she replied, pulling back and looking up at him. She laughed a little. "Things got rather boring without me having to constantly look after you two."

"And the halls were much too quiet without you constantly nagging," Constantine fired back, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

"Oh, so I nag you?" Damaris laughed.

"Yes. You do."

"I prefer to see it as...keeping you out of trouble."

"Ah, yes. With my conscious gone for two months, how did I ever survive?"

Grinning, she shook her head. "I don't know."

Laughing, Constantine slipped an arm around Damaris's waist, pulling her close. He shot a quick glance towards Caspian, who gave him a wink and a smile as he took a step back. Damaris spoke.

"I have news. I wish I would have been able to tell you sooner-"

"By the heavens, you make it sound as if someone died!" Constantine said.

Damaris chuckled. "No, no, it's good news, I promise. My father and I spent a few days in Archenland on our journey back home, and I learned that Lady Sylvia is returning to Narnia at last."

"That's wonderful!" Caspian exclaimed.

"Yes, it is," Constantine agreed. "How long has it been since last we saw her? Two years? Three?"

"At any rate, it will be longer still since she saw Lord Octesian," Caspian said.

"It was he that sent for her," Damaris said.

"So somewhere deep down through the mess of politics and money-keeping he does miss his daughter after all," Constantine quipped.

Caspian shrugged. "Will she be here in time for the Conqueror's Hunt?"

A grin spread across Damaris's face. "She plans to arrive the week before."

"It will be good to see her," Constantine said. "You and me, Caspian here, the sons of Lord Restimar, and Lady Sylvia, all together again."

"Old times reborn," Damaris said. "Before politics and betrothals and all matter of unpleasant things."

Constantine grinned. "Let's not think on it too much. Tonight we celebrate your safe return, the reunion of friends, and the glorious deflation of Calormene arrogance."

Damaris rolled her eyes and bit back a smile. Caspian shook his head, laughing.

"As long as they don't wound yours in return, cousin," he said.

Constantine just gave him a playful shove in response, and Damaris laughed out loud. They watched the sky for a while, pointing out familiar constellations, recalling old memories, and joking at each other's expense for how long, they weren't sure. All three leaned against the parapet walls, laughing. Constantine stood up.

"Shall we return to the feast?" he said.

Caspian nodded. "We will be missed if we're up here any longer, and that never ends well."

Damaris sighed. "You two may return, if you wish. After my outburst, I think I shall retire to my father's study for the night. I have no desire to face Azhar Tarkaan again while he's still angry."

"What will we tell Lord Revilian?" Caspian asked.

"That I felt ill and did not wish to return."

"I'll walk you back then," Constantine said, offering his arm.

Damaris took it, and they began to leave. She didn't miss Constantine's slight hesitation or the reassuring smile that Caspian shot him, though she didn't know what to make of either. Just before they disappeared, she beckoned to Caspian, who slowly joined them. When Constantine raised an eyebrow and Caspian gave a little shrug, she didn't notice. They walked in relatively comfortable silence until they reached Lord Revilian's study.

Damaris stepped through the door, then looked at both of them fondly. "It's good to be home," she said. "Thank you both for everything."

Constantine grinned. "Of course. Should the Tarkaan persist and you find yourself in need of a friend to kill him in his sleep, you know where to find me."

She laughed. "It won't come to that, but if it does, I will remember the offer."

Constantine nodded, taking a step back. "Well...goodnight, Damaris."

She smiled. "Goodnight, Constantine. Caspian." Her gaze lingered on the latter for a second, and she smiled at him before she shut the door.

She breathed deep, and the familiar scent of old pages and worn leather greeted her. Soft candlelight flickered around overstuffed bookshelves and cupboards, and moonlight skittered onto the floor through waves of glass in the window. Her father's desk sat in the middle of it, strewn with papers and books and maps with two huge tomes open on top of all of it. She made her way over.

 _Finally._

Her fingers traced over navigational star charts of the Eastern Sea, while her eyes skimmed over the proper methods of lowering fever and quieting cough. She then noticed a particularly large, half-rolled map and drew it open with her finger.

The Lone Islands and the eastern coasts of Narnia and Calormen stared back at her, along with drawings of sea serpents and other monsters in the waves beyond. She studied it for a while, wondering why anyone would even bother to make a map of the area if most of her people were terrified of even wading in the river.

Then again, there were a handful that didn't relate to that fear, and Lord Revilian was one of them.

She smiled to herself as she imagined her father tearing through books and scribbling in his journals well into the night, muttering to himself and mulling over the question of what could possibly be out there. She rolled the map back into place when a small, thin volume fell from the messy stack of books. Gingerly, to avoid bending any yellowing pages, she picked it back up and nearly set it back on the desk, when an illustration caught her eye.

A young woman stared back at her, or rather the form of a young woman made from delicate leaves and flower petals that swirled in the wind. She came halfway out of a slim birch tree, her slender hand lifted in greeting and a bright smile on her laughing face. Beneath the drawing was printed a name.

 _Dryad._

Damaris's brow furrowed, but before she could make sense of it, the door

squeaked open, and her father stepped inside.

"There you are," he said. He fixed her with a kind but knowing look. "The prince said you were ill. I was worried."

"I didn't mean to distress you, Father," she said. "I needed to retreat."

"With the terrible manners of your company, I cannot say that I blame you," he replied, stepping forward and plucking the book out of her hands. "You're much too old to be reading such a thing," he chided gently.

"It fell from _your_ desk," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not even sure I know what it is."

Lord Revilian just put a finger to his lips in response.

He slid the book into a clandestine stack on the top of a high shelf before turning back towards her. Silver streaked his dark hair, and his frame wasn't as powerful as it had once been, but he still stood tall and proud, and his bright brown eyes gently sparkled.

"I am proud of you for defending yourself." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "But I would advise you to be careful. The men of Calormen aren't accustomed to being denied what they want, and though they are courteous, they can quickly become equally as cruel."

"I know," Damaris said. "But boundaries had to be set. That Tarkaan-"

She stopped when she caught the worried look in Revilian's eye.

"That was no mere Tarkaan, Damaris. He is the Prince Azhar, the son of the Tisroc, the next in line for the Calormene throne."

Damaris huffed. "He failed to mention that. And prince or not, he must also respect the customs and expectations of _our_ people if he expects us to do the same for his."

"I don't disagree," Revilian replied. "But the next time you must stop unwanted advances, promise me you will be more tactful. Not for their sake, but for yours."

She gave him a pursed-lipped smile. "I will do my best."

He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "That's all I ask."

She turned back towards the books on the desk, and his attention followed suit. His eyes lit up as he shifted the book of star charts around.

"The third moon of autumn is tonight," he said. "And if this old thing can be trusted, we should be able to see Galina to the north and west."

He slipped over to the window. It creaked as it opened, and a small breeze ruffled a few loose leafs around his feet. Damaris picked them up as she approached. Revilian's eyes were glued to the sky, and a plaintive smile grew on his face as he pointed.

"Do you see her?"

She peered in the direction he pointed until she finally found it: a bright star at the head of a small constellation.

"Yes."

She sighed hard, and Revilian slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"Your mother was named for that star," he said. "It shone the night she was born. She once showed it to you, though I doubt you remember. You hadn't yet seen your first winter."

"I wish I'd known her better," Damaris said.

"She loved you so," Revilian said. "She always sang you songs and read you stories. Most women of her standing hired a nurse, but she preferred to care for you herself, and I wasn't about to stop her." He sighed hard. "When the fever came, she still refused to leave you, and I was terrified that it would take you even after it took her. But you were spared."

She knew the story well, but she didn't stop him from telling it again. He never remarried after her mother's death, and though nearly fourteen years had passed, she swore she saw tears pooling in his eyes.

"She was a clever woman. Scathingly so, sometimes. But she was also kind and beautiful, and that combination was enough." He turned towards Damaris. "You remind me more and more of her the older you get. Sometimes it hurts. But it never fails to make me smile."

Staring up towards the star, Damaris leaned into him, and he planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Father?" she said after a silence.

He turned towards her.

"What was that little book? The one you shoved away so high."

"Old children's stories," he said. "Of course they aren't true, but they do hold some literary and cultural value."

She laughed a little. "What was it doing out?"

"That was my curiosity getting the better of me," he replied. "And that is all I will say on the matter."

She decided not to press him and fought the urge to ask him what a Dryad was. She only stared at the sky.

"I meant to tell you earlier," Revilian said. "Just before I came looking for you, I overheard Prince Azhar's guard preparing to leave in two days. If you meant to drive him off, you succeeded."

Damaris failed to bite back a smirk. "He may need to leave sooner before he turns up dead with Constantine and Caspian claiming it to be a sad accident."

Lord Revilian chuckled. "Old friends can always be relied on. Or perhaps they are merely eliminating the competition."

She elbowed him, and he laughed again.

"Constantine is like a brother to me," she said. "And Caspian…"

She cut herself off and strode from the window, face burning with embarrassment. Revilian smiled.

"You are young. You have time to sort things out," he said. His smile turned to a full on, cheeky grin. "But I would not count Constantine out."

" _Goodnight_ , Father!"

She scurried from the study, knocking a book from the desk in the process. Her father stood behind, replacing the book and laughing to himself.

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 **Hope you enjoyed! I'll warn you that between school work, other fanfics that I'm writing, and working on an original manuscript that I'm hoping to one day get published, updates with me are kinda sporadic, but feel free to drop a favorite/follow or a review and I'll do my best to get back to you!**


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